Chapter Fifteen: The Meeting That Changed History (Part One)

“Five, six, seven—seven bolts left. Add the sleeve arrows, that makes nine in total.” Just as expected, the bandits sent people one after another to investigate. The second time it was two men; the third, four; the fourth, ten. Taking advantage of the night and the cover of the woods, Ming Tian and An Luo used stealthy, underhanded tactics to pick them off one by one. However, the larger fourth group proved more difficult; one was missed, allowing a bandit to discover them and shout an alarm.

The stronghold was now in full lockdown. Fortunately, after depleting so many men in their reconnaissance, only thirteen or fourteen bandits remained on guard at the stockade—likely all that was left of their fighting force.

Inside the main hall, as the alarm bells sounded, Cui Jue, who was interrogating Yin Chan, immediately sensed things were going awry.

“Report!” A bandit barged into the hall in a panic.

Cui Jue’s face darkened instantly. “What is it?”

“We… we’re under attack! Many of our brothers are dead!”

Yin Chan’s expression hardened at this news.

Cui Jue, a seasoned transmigrator himself, felt a chill in his heart at the report. “What’s the situation?”

The bandit, trembling, truthfully recounted the story: the scent from outside the stronghold, the four patrols sent out, and their complete annihilation.

Cui Jue’s face turned ashen. Not long ago, he had been calm and at ease; now, a trace of unease flickered across his features. “How many attackers? Where are they?”

The bandit, as if he’d swallowed a toad, quavered, “Two… two people, in the woods. We haven’t found them yet.”

“Two?!” Cui Jue’s face flamed with rage. He lashed out, kicking the bandit in the face. “Two men killed seventeen of you? Were you all raised on pig slop? Get out there! Hold the gates at all costs!”

“Yes, sir!” The bandit, not daring to disobey, wiped the blood from his nose and stumbled out.

At this, Yin Chan smiled.

She had already guessed who had come—of all those who survived the horse troop, only those two remained.

An Luo and Ming Tian!

An Luo’s arrival was no surprise; the big brute had feelings for her, so his coming was to be expected. But that Ming Tian had come as well—now that was unexpected. She hadn’t thought the boy would be so loyal.

Cui Jue turned to see Yin Chan smiling and, in his anger, struck her across the face.

Yin Chan’s handsome features swelled instantly from the blow. Yet, despite the pain, she only laughed. “Go on, hit me again! What’s the matter, lord third-in-command of the Chaos Reavers? Is this all the courage you have?”

Meanwhile, Ming Tian, seeing the stronghold now in lockdown, was overjoyed. Only a dozen or so remained—clearly all the fighting men the bandits had left. If there had been thirty or more at the start, he might have hesitated, but now, with so few gathered in one spot, weren’t they just lining up to be slaughtered?

It had to be said, Yin Chan’s repeating crossbow was truly effective. Each shot left a bandit dead or crippled, allowing their stealth tactics to achieve maximum effect—seventeen bandits killed, one per bolt.

Of course, Ming Tian felt his own culinary skills deserved most of the credit. If not for the enticing aroma of his Amanita duck, how could their tactic have succeeded so well? Yes, it was definitely his doing!

He grinned, shamelessly claiming all the credit for himself.

With only a handful of bandits left, what was there to fear?

“An Luo! Didn’t you want to kill? Go!”

The odds had been evened. No need for further stealth. Ming Tian crept to within fifty meters of the cave entrance, then leapt up with a roar, raising the repeating crossbow and firing a volley.

Seven bolts flew; three bandits fell, leaving a gaping hole in their already flimsy defenses.

Beside Ming Tian, An Luo drew his twin blades and charged in with the force of a thunderbolt.

It had to be said: this muscle-bound man truly lived up to his rank as a centurion and the personal bodyguard of a commandery princess. Even in modern times, his prowess would be considered elite.

He closed the fifty-meter gap as if it didn’t exist. Before the bandits could react, An Luo swooped down like a great eagle, his blades plunging into a bandit’s chest. Bursting into the midst of the enemy, he gave them no time to respond—one backhanded slash, and two heads rolled.

“Invaders!”

“Kill them!”

The remaining bandits, terrified to the core, found themselves at their wits’ end. Yet by sheer desperation and shouted courage, they managed to rally, charging An Luo like starving wolves against a tiger.

But if the bandits could go berserk, An Luo could do so even more.

“Miss Yin Chan, hold on! I’m coming to save you! Out of my way, scum!”

A man in love is truly mad.

At this moment, An Luo was no tiger—he was a rabid dog.

Even as two bandits seized his arms and another raised an axe to strike, An Luo dragged the two down to their knees, dodging the fatal blow, then lunged forward and bit down—hard—on the bandit in front of him.

He bit down, dog-like and wild, and the wretched bandit let out a scream so piercing it sent flocks of birds flying from the forests miles away.

The scene left everyone dumbstruck. Who uses their mouth in a fight? And of all places, to bite a man there?

An Luo twisted his head, tearing away the bandit’s groin—pants and all—with his teeth.

Not only Ming Tian but even the few surviving bandits instinctively clamped their legs together, hands flying to protect themselves, mouths forming perfect O’s as they sucked in cold air.

With a flick of his arm, An Luo sent the two bandits holding him crashing to the ground before him. As they fell, their backsides were perfectly exposed; seizing the chance, An Luo brought his blades down, stabbing them both—

Ming Tian could no longer bear to watch, turning away as the air filled with the bandits’ wails of agony.

The cries were so piteous, Ming Tian almost felt sorry for them.

Good heavens, they’ve been split open! Who stabs a man there on purpose? You did that on purpose, didn’t you?!

In the end, only three bandits remained conscious, one of them the unfortunate soul deprived of his manhood, still howling on the ground.

“Who else dares to come?!”

An Luo stood there, drenched in blood, twin broken blades in hand. Dozens of wounds leaked like crimson zippers. His eyes, wild as a bull’s, blazed with such fury that his mere presence was enough to terrify any man.

At this moment, his manliness was on full display.

Ming Tian, watching this fierce warrior fearlessly battle for the woman he loved, couldn’t help but admire him.

Damn, An Luo, you are amazing! So manly—even I, if I were a woman, would have weak knees… Wait, what am I saying? What does that say about me?

The last two bandits, utterly broken, lost control of their bladders and fled into the woods, weeping and wailing.

A dozen bandits—all taken out by a single rampaging An Luo.

Silence fell over the scene.

“An Luo, you’re incredible! Took out a dozen by yourself?”

Ming Tian had to admit his admiration, slapping An Luo on the back in praise.

But that slap was the final straw.

An Luo collapsed to his knees with a thud, barely supporting himself with his broken blades. The blood that had stained him in battle now left him too weak to stand, and he gasped for breath.

More than twenty wounds seeped blood, each like a red zipper opening up.

Ming Tian’s usual levity vanished; his face grew solemn as he tore strips from his shirt to bind An Luo’s wounds.

“Don’t move; let me patch you up.”

“Leave me,” An Luo said, grabbing Ming Tian’s hand and looking at him with a gaze full of trust. “Brother Ming Tian, I… I did all I could. Don’t worry about me… Miss Yin Chan… I entrust her… to you…”

With that, An Luo lost consciousness.

“Hey, An Luo, brother! Don’t scare me—hey!”

In his anxiety, Ming Tian felt a surge of respect for this man who had fought with all he had for the woman he loved.

Who among modern men had such loyalty? Such sincerity?

Ming Tian’s view of this brawny warrior shifted from disdain to genuine respect.

He checked An Luo’s pulse—still alive—and finally breathed easier.

This guy might be obsessed with fighting, but after tonight, Ming Tian knew he’d found a friend worth having.

If you survive this, I’ll call you brother. So don’t you dare die on me!

He set about bandaging An Luo’s wounds.

Suddenly, a violent gust sliced through the air toward his ear.

Ming Tian, who had trained in another life, reacted instantly. Instinctively, he jerked his head back just in time.

A flash of silver whizzed past his eye.

Thud.

A Yan-red saber quivered, embedded in the wooden railing, still trembling with the force of the throw.

Had he been a hair slower, his head would have been severed.

He followed the trajectory back to its source—a man with a flushed, hawkish face emerging from the cave, dressed in a blue, tiger-embroidered robe, holding a battered woman hostage.

His attire was opulent, a world apart from the bandits. And the woman in his grasp, her face bruised and swollen, was none other than Yin Chan.

“So it’s you two, turning my base upside down? You’ve got some f***ing nerve!”

The man’s voice brimmed with menace; the censored curse made it clear—he, like Ming Tian, was a transmigrator.

“Who are you?” Ming Tian, sensing the man was no ordinary foe, rose slowly, readying the last two sleeve arrows behind his back.

With An Luo down, he alone remained as Yin Chan’s hope.

“Me? Heh. Ever heard of Champion General Cui Huijing? I transmigrated into his son. You can call me Cui Jue.”

…